James Buchanan Barnes isn't a killer. He isn't merciless, or cunning, or evil.
But something in him is.
*****
A wrapper crinkles, fabric shifts, and a small, open hand jerks in front of my face. The smell of powdery chocolate and oats meets my nos...
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"How is this possible?" Romanoff questions, gaze drifting up to Steve.
Banner stands up from his crouch alongside Thor, but the hammer remains on Stark's chest where he lies sprawled on the floor. His outcries go unheard.
My thoughts continue to roil despite the conversation that ensues.
Loki got to Stark. Somehow, somewhere, he got to him. It's possible Stark found his location and the Asgardian didn't like that all too much. Guilt drives up my gut, and a raw, unyielding shame quickly follows.
"The scepter and its power is not of Midgard." Thor explains, eyes trailing from Stark to Romanoff. "It is likely its magic has adapted since we last encountered it."
Steve huffs. "Well we can't leave him like this."
"Who knows who's diamonds he'll go after." Barton drawls with an unusually easy smirk.
Steve makes a gesture towards Romanoff. She nods curtly and turns her attention to a writhing, panting Stark.
At the last second, she looks at Barton. "He won't remember this, right?"
His mouth curves. "I didn't."
She smirks coyly and steps to the man on the floor. His mouth seethes, and I almost expect it to foam. The agent raises a leg, and in one fluid motion, brings it down onto the bridge of his nose. His head lolls heavily to one side as his eyes fall closed, unconscious.
I don't let myself cringe.
Barton and Thor crouch to carry Stark elsewhere, while Romanoff, Wilson, and Steve pick up their conversation once more. I find myself standing by the wall, one leg perched against it, arms crossed. A familiar position.
My mind instantly travels back to the feeling of Mila standing at my side. To the shivers passing through me as her fingers mindlessly itched through the hem of my shirt. I recall how earthquakes passed over my skin every time her nails dipped down below the fabric, unknowingly grazing my abdomen.
I convince myself Loki wouldn't kill her. He's after me, not her. He'd need Mila to get me to come to him. Getting rid of his bait wouldn't do him any good.
At least that's what I tell myself.
A warm hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I raise my chin to meet Wilson's wide eyes.
"That looks like a heavy head to carry." He says kindly. I run my tongue over my lips quietly, looking down.
"Heavy heart's more like it." I say.
He shifts to lean against the wall to my left. I glimpse the tip of his head dip down out of the corner of my eye.
"You really mean somethin' to her, y'know?"
My chest swells with a heavy breath. I push my arms further up against my chest.
